God Bless America
by iSnuffles
Summary: Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers to the red clad figure he knows will never stand behind him again. "Why did you never let me see this for myself?" usXuk, slight usxfrance. drabble series. 15/100
1. Beginnings

_Disclaimer: As per usual, the series I'm writing for does not belong to me. Macbeth belongs to William Shakespeare—not me._

_This is nothing more than a series of drabbles and vignettes I'm writing to fill a hundred theme challenge of deviantart. (PM me if you want the link to it to do it yourself). There aren't any real warnings worth putting here other than shota and incest if you consider England & America really being like brothers or a father and son. And naturally, drabbles mean each chapter will be rather short._

* * *

**God Bless America**

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Beginnings

There is nothing but the plains, the sky --bright, clear blue like his eyes-- and the both seem to go on forever. He doesn't know where he is, who is, but that's alright with him. As soon as his tiny eyes opened, he knew it was all his. From the mountains, to the prairies, and to the ocean, white with foam. It was his. It was his home and it was entirely perfect.


	2. Drama

Drama

He peaks over his elder's shoulder, resting his soft palms carefully against the cotton of the other's shirt. "England?" he asks softly, nudging the sleeping gentleman carefully. He gets an inquisitive grunt in response. "Are you awake?"

The British Empire blinks his green eyes open. _We match,_ America thinks to himself, _Mine are the sky and ocean and his are the grass, trees and Earth_. As his guardian mutters that if he wasn't awake earlier, he is now, the little colony watches as he rubs a hand against his sleepy eyes. A stifled yawn follows.

"Did you need something, America?"

_For you to stay longer,_ the tiny boy silently answers. He was going to ask the taller nation to go outside and play tag with him before it gets dark out but now his blue eyes have already found something to focus his attention on. A leather bound book in England's lap that must have slipped from his grip when he fell asleep. He points to the book. "You haven't read that one to me yet."

"I'm not quite sure it's appropriate for a child like yourself…."

"What's it about?"

"… It's about a man by the name of Macbeth, a Thane who would become King of his country through lies, murder and deceit." Before the blonde hair angel can ask, he adds, "It might scare you."

"I'm not scared," America huffs. "I'm brave enough to stay all alone while you leave me and go back home." It's half a lie; oft times when his guardian is gone young Alfred spends his time amongst his Native American neighbors (the Abenaki in particular). As far as he is concerned, their stories of bears that kill entire villages and underwater serpents that flood the Earth are by far scarier because they are so much nearer to him than whatever horrors might await for him in the book he's pointing it to. "Read it to me? _Please?"_ He throws in that smile he knows England won't be able to resist.

Sighing, the elder picks up his book. "From the start or my place?"

"Wherever you left off," the tiny nation chirps, climbing onto England's lap and snuggling himself against the other's warm skin. (He doesn't notice the blush creeping across his guardian's face, just listens to the gentle beat of his heart instead.)

"…. 'Methought I heard a voice cry, _Sleep no more!  
Macbeth does murder sleep,_ — the innocent sleep;  
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,  
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,  
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,  
Chief nourisher in life's feast…' "

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**Historic notes:**

Not many for this chapter. Macbeth was written in the early 17th century by William Shakespeare. England reading this to America is completely one of my headcannons for the series for... numerous reasons besides the fact that the story fits them so perfectly. Since I was asked, yes I actually do roleplay and LARP as America. Quite often, actually, he's one of my favorites to do besides Lithuania (usually as the LSSR and in the '90s as the Iron Curtain is beginning to collaspe). To answer another question, yes, in my head, Alfred _did_ name those soldiers Arthur made for him and they're all named after characters from Othello and Macbeth (Cassio, Duncan, Fleance,) except for one named George which was named after a fisherman who would always find Alfred and tell him when Arthur's ship was coming into port.


	3. Scary

Scary

_I'm dying…._

America chokes back a strangled sob. It hurts so bad; worse than anything he had ever experienced. His throat is covered in bruises --strangled from his own hands-- and his lips are covered in scabs and blood from biting so hard into them so harshly. His can't tell left from right, up from down or night from day. All he sees are the cannons' fire, the bayonets and two God forsaken colors--gray and blue. _Make it stop,_ he begs, shaking from the pain and strange urge to throw himself into his fireplace. _Make it stop. Make it stop. Please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease!_

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**Historic notes:**

The American Civil War was fought during 1861-1865. At this point in time, the United States of America primairly 'split' itself into two groups- the northern states and the southern states that declared their secession from the United States and formed the Confederate States of America, eventually electing Jefferson Davis as their president. The nothern states made up the Union while the southern slave states made up the Confederacy.

At this point in time for America, the war hasn't officially started yet. He's just feeling the pain of the states seperating themselves for him.


	4. Light

_  
Author's Note:Sorry to interupt but someone asked a question I bet all of you may be wondering. "Is this story in chronological order?" No. It is not. I apologize for any confusion this might cause. I think you can all figure out when each takes place but in case it wasn't clear, the first is when America is first "born", the second is while he's still a happy English colony, "Scary" was during the American Civil War and this one is just after the Revolutionary War. If there's every anymore confusion, just ask and I'll be happy to clear it up.  
_

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Light

When the rain clears, the clouds linger for some time after. When at last they disappear, it is blinding. He shrinks away from the sun, covering his eyes and pinching them shut until he can adjust. There's a gentle and warm breeze nudging his arm down. Slowly, but surely, he blinks his eyes open and it is nothing like he has ever seen before. His plains are so much greener, his sky terrifies him and looks like it's ready to swallow him whole.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers to the missing red clad figure he knows will never stand behind him again. "Why did you never let me see this for myself?"

* * *

**Historic notes:**

In 1783, Britain signed a treaty with the freshly formed United States of America to end the war. At this point, the independent colonies had already been recognized as such by the Dutch and French (whom assisted the Patriots during the war). From here on out, the Britain began to accept the new boundries of the States. The US was left to run itself, make up it's debts owed to the French and Dutch from the war, try to make up from trade exports lost by ostracizing themselves from the British and attempt to hit the ground running in learning how to run a country.


	5. Dark

Dark

He pretended to have a night terror. _("The ghosts are coming to kill me! Please don't leave me, Arthur. They'll get me if you do!")_ He forced tears from his eyes and shook as uncontrollably as he could when he was embraced. _("Oh God, oh God, I don't want to die.")_ In the end, it worked perfectly. He was pulled into the other's lap and he is gently pushed against the man's chest and the very heart of the British Empire (where he rightfully belongs!).

"Alfred? Are you asleep yet?"

He forces a sniffle. "N-no. Please don't leave me. I'm so scared." It is all an act but England falls for it perfectly. Soon the sea dog is tucking himself into bed with his ward quickly sliding over to make room. He keeps an arm around America even after he has fallen asleep and begun to snore. In moments like this, the harshness of his face fade away and he is nothing more than a gentle soul.

It's moments like these that America wishes would last forever because in times like these, his heart can't help but swell and throb. Arthur has never looked more beautiful.


	6. Happiness

Happiness

It's the sudden light and hope that fills those icy blue eyes that make him choke up.

"You came…." The other looks like he's going to cry. In fact, the bloodshot rings around France's eyes indicate that he already has. _"Mon dieu,_ I thought you'd never come. Thank--"

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**Historic notes (to be continued in the next chapter):**

During World War II, in 1940, Germany invaded France on May 10th, 1940 in a series of campaigns that would later be known as the Battle of France (also known as the Fall of France). By June 14th, German forces had occupied the city of Paris and by June 17th it was announced that France would ask to sign an armistice with Germany. The armistice was signed on June 22nd and put in effect three days later. France wasn't officially consider liberated until 1944, via the Allied Forces' invasion.


	7. Sadness

Sadness

… "Don't say thank you," he interrupts. America feels dizzy and shakes his head. "I didn't come here to save you. I came here to remind you that the money you owe from my last shipment was due three months ago. I'm going to have to raise your interest rates."

France's face deadpans. It's hard for America to look at it now; the face that was once flawless and angelic is now marred with cuts and bruises. It doesn't suit him just like the harsh words that just tumbled out of America's mouth don't suit him either. To France, they make no sense at all.

"W-what?"

America stiffens. He's going to hell. He's going straight down to hell one day. "You heard me," he whispers, voice cracking slightly. He looks down and pretends to ignore the metal chains around France's ankles and wrists. He has to look away before he lets his emotions get carried away, before they make him act on a whim and put the lives of every American in danger.

"You can't be serious!"

* * *

**Histortic notes:**

The America Neutrality Acts were a series of acts passed to ensure, especially during the World Wars, that The United States of America would remain neutral. Essentially, these acts made it so that the USA would be unable to declare war on another country based on the wars going on in other countries _unless _the USA was attacked first. In WWII, the act was amendended so that supplies could be sent to Great Britain and France on loan, troops to China and though it wasn't a part of the Act, some American volunteers went to fight in Europe before 1941.

I honestly don't know the situation involving interest rates on the loans, and I also don't if the USA ever 'went after' France for money during the war. So there are probably some intended historic inaccuracies in this; I just wanted to write Alfred as a guilty jerk.


	8. Balance

Balance

It was so hard to walk softly and carry a big stick when he knew his stick was hard enough to crack the skull of the bastard who was slowly killing his family.

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**Historic notes:**

"Walk speak softly and carry a big stick." - President Theodore Roosevelt

The idea behind this quote in a nutshell essentially states that a country, or at least oft times the United States, should act as peaceful as possible while still flaunting their miltary power. Though this quote came into existence when Roosevelt added to the Monroe Doctrine to keep European out of Latin America, I thought that just slightly altered would fit American Neutrality during WWII better. It's mainly just my headcannon that Alfred absolutely wanted to join the war efforts to protect and save his old family (England, France and Canada) but England in particular and Roosevelt wouldn't allow him to put American lives at risk. The 'bastard' in this chapter refers to Germany.


	9. Anger

Anger

"You only see 'America'! Why can't you just pretend to see 'Alfred' for once like you used to?!"

When the back of Arthur's hand collides with his face, it hurts worse than he can imagine. "Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that, you ungrateful brat."


	10. Murder

Murder

Nausea ripples through him. Until today, even with all the ill sentiments that have slowly ebbed into his mind from his citizens about his guardian, England has always been a safe haven for him. Now all of Boston has twelve reasons that it will never be like that ever again and America wonders if his height will be enough of a handicap to defend himself (his people, everyone's lives) if England doesn't respond well to being slugged in the jaw upon his next visit.

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**Historic notes:**

The Boston Massacre took place in March of 1770. Simply put, and according to bostonmasscre(dot)net, written by Stephen C. O'Neill, _"British Private Hugh White stands sentry duty in the snowy, moonlit street before the Custom House. Moments before, he had sent a local boy running off, bruised and crying, after an exchange of words. Now, facing an angry crowd of civilians, White calls for help. Captain Thomas Preston and seven soldiers respond. Bells ring out nearby from the Old Brick Church, normally the town's fire alarm. On the dark street, people are shouting "Where's the fire?" adding to the confusion and tension. At the Custom House the crowd presses in, began to throw ice and rocks, taunting the soldiers, damning them to fire their muskets, knowing that soldiers are forbidden to shoot without orders from a civil magistrate. Private Hugh Montgomery is knocked down, and someone yells "Fire!" The soldiers shoot into the crowd, killing five and wounding six."_

While twelve lives weren't taken, here, America's sudden anger is reasoned by 5 deaths + 6 wounded + 1 bruised boy. 5+6+1=12.


	11. Medicine

Medicine

When he arrived in London, he didn't know what he expected; he just knew that it shouldn't look anything like this. This couldn't be the place that England always abandoned him to rush back to. As he makes his way through one of the more habitable areas of the city, he eventually finds his Englishman in one of the destroyed areas, sitting in the rumble. "Arthur?" He was afraid to step forward. That couldn't be England, gazing skyward with a look of – America didn't even know. Despair? Calmness? Acceptance of his fate?

It was terrible.

"Arthur? Are… are you alright?"

The man in question glances downward and to the side, staring with his thick eyebrows tilted inward in thought. As if he didn't recognize the man he raised. " 'Lo," he greets numbly.

"What are you— oh." Beside England rests several cigar butts, a flask and a bottle of some alcohol he's never heard of. (America didn't go out drinking all that often.) "Oh." England was pretending to be human again. Well, that explained the stench of rotted smoke and sour liquor.


	12. Modern

_A slight note:_ Hey, everyone. I'm terribly sorry for not updating in so long. I've been glaring at my list of prompts because I never fill them in order and I didn't really want to break that order of prompts because the prompts oft times are grouped together (ie happiness, sadness and balance all came after one another). However, that isn't working. So yeah. I'm updating out of the numeric order. Oops.

Also, I've been asked to include footnotes as to when each chapter takes place so I'll be doing that from here on out as well as adding those on to prevous chapters. Thanks for all the reviews and support.

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Modern

**starsnstripes:** U dun like the tag?  
**fishnchips:** God, no. Change it back. I hate it.  
**starsnstripes:** but we match nao. :]  
**fishnchips:** Change it back, right now Alfred, or I swear to God I'll….

_fishnchips is writing_

**starsnstripes:** but yyyyyy?  
**starsnstripes:** how else am ii suppose 2 kno who iiím tlkng 2?

_fishnchips is writing _

**starsnstripes:** well?

_fishnchips is writing  
__fishnchips is writing_

**starsnstripes:** ur ignorin miiiiiii~ *pout*  
**fishnchips:** … I'll find something terrible to you. I'll kidnap Ronald McDonald and force him to fight Captain America or something. And stop typing like that! You speak English bad enough; don't bastardize my greatest gift to you any further than you already have.  
**fishnchips:** I'd say that you should be capable of remembering whoever is own your friends list but considering your map of the world only consists of yourself and your territories, I'm afraid you're out of luck.  
**starsnstripes:** le gasp! Ur so mean, artie!  
**starsnstripes:** u wouldn't actually do dat, would you?  
**fishnchips:** Don't use that frog's language either!  
**fishnchips:** I'm warning you, Alfred. Either start talking or whatever the hell it is that we're doing in complete sentences or I'm logging off.  
**starsnstripes:** but chu cant do that! how we gonna solve our recessions if ya do?

_fishnchips has gone offline._

America stared at his phone's screen and his now finished chat with England for a few moments before grinning to himself. As soon as he ran his thumb over the button to close the chat log, _ARTHUR_ began to flash across the screen in pulsing black letters to the beat of an old Ramones song on its screen. He waited until it reached the chorus before answering the call. "You're a bona fide asshole, did I ever tell you that?"


	13. Honesty

Honesty

America's voice carried down the hall, loud, enraged. "Don't you care about your own citizens?" It's a haughty accusation to make at the end of these times. They all cared. That's why they fought, that's why their people died.

Canada shook his sadly. "Wasn't there another way to end this?" he asked of the two men standing beside him. For once, he is acknowledged by a heavy sigh.

_"Non, mon puce."_

For once, England nods in agreement with France. "Japan refused every term we sent to him..." His voice trails off as America's begins again, half shouting, half screaming.

"He burnt you, he killed you! You welcomed him with open arms and he _betrayed_ you!"

Never in a thousand years would America ever be able to understand the hypocrisy of his anger and words.

"I still can't believe it," Canada muttered into his polar bear's fur, petting him fondly. The bear squeaked, demanding to know who was carrying him but the Canadian just ignored him. "I never thought he could do something like that - something so cruel."

"We're all cruel," said England. His back found the wall and he leaned against it for support for his aching body. London beat steadily in his chest.

"But how can we act like that towards each other?"

("What about Nanking?" America screeches.)

The assembled Allies all go quiet just as they do when someone mentions Paris, just as they do when someone mentions Stalingrad, just as they do when someone mentions London, just like they do when someone mentions Pearl Harbor. The reverence for the dead is interrupted only by America grumbling to himself as he now begins to walk in the hall the trio has assembled them.

"How?" England echoes as America nears. "Fair is foul and foul is fair."

* * *

**Historic Notes:**

On February 4th, 1945, the Soviet Union agreed to invade Japan within three months of German surrender at the end of WWII at the Yalta Conference. Germany surrendered on May 8th. On July 26th, the Postdam Declaration was sent to Japan, demanding its complete and unconditional surrender. The Japanese refused to accept the terms because they did not ensure the safety or well beings of their Emperor who was seen like a God to them.

On August 6th, the United States of America dropped the first atomic bomb, nicknamed "Little Boy" on Hiroshima, indirectly starting the Cold War and arms race with the Soviet Union that would last until the collapse of the Union in the mid-90s. The Soviet Union then declared war on Japan on August 8th and proceeded to invade Manchuria. The next day, the second and larger Atomic bomb ("Fat Man") was dropped on Nagasaki.

By August 14th, Emperor Hirohito gave his decree to surrender over the radio though the formal surrender would not take place until September 2nd. Until then, casualities and violence continued on the invading Soviet and American side as well as the defending Japanese sides. It would take until September of '45 for all the Japanese forces in countries they had occupied (like Korea and Burma) to surrender to the Allies as well.


	14. Trickery

**Trickery**

It is his tenth time reading the book. At the very least, he has memorized the first act of the play but there are several other scenes he now knows by heart. Still, he pretends to only know the little words because he knows that if he can't read the book by himself by now, England will think he is a disgrace. If England thinks for a moment his precious colony is a disgrace, he will seek to amend the situation as soon as possible.

His hands, not quite so tiny anymore but small enough still for his guardian angel to wrap a hand around, twitch slightly as he purposely brushes his hand over England's (which are holding the book) as his finger slides under the words to keep his place. " 'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent that lays beneath it,' " America reads.

"Very good," England breathes. The man doesn't know it but his breath is hot against America's ear from where he stands behind the chair America is now sitting in. _("What are you doing? Get out of my lap before you crush me!") _The preteen shivers, unable to keep his body from reacting to the closeness of the empire. "Are you cold?"

America gives a weak nod. He's not cold; his body feels like it's on fire. His stomach had been twisting and turning since England arrived this morning. Now the tightening in his stomach, the way England's hands brush against his shoulders and then run down his chest from behind as he covers his America in his wool coat, has America ready to squirm. Doesn't understand why, he just knows he likes the feeling just like he knows that it must be wrong to feel this way because England isn't responding in the same why to his accidental touches as America is to his.

"Are you feeling alright, lad?" One hand retreats back to his shoulder, the other presses against his forehead. "You're warm. How do you feel?"

"Dizzy," he responds because it is the truth.

"Why don't you lie down? We can resume the lesson later once you've rested. Shall I make you some tea and scones?" America nods. England's cooking always was his favorite. "Very well." England pats a hand against America's thigh. The colony reminds himself that it is a friendly gesture, one that England has done often enough as well as the occasional reassuring leg squeeze, but he forgets (perhaps he doesn't know at all) that England is a much better liar than he. "Why don't you run up to your room? I'll wake you when I'm done preparing your snack."

America tries to stand but his knees are weak from the lingering touch and he is dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. He stumbles directly into the older nation. "S-sorry!" He pulls away, hiding his face. Turning to hurry away and up the stairs that lead to his bedroom, America manages to take one more step before his wrist is seized.

"Wait." He does. "Let me carry you."

"I thought I was too big." An arm slide under his knees and he sat on it, leaning back until another caught him under his shoulder blades. Blue eyes blinked, a shy smile creeping across his face. "I thought you said I was too heavy."

England smirked. "I only said that because I didn't feel like carrying you last night."

"You jerk!" He says it playfully and both parties know he doesn't mean those words so no one takes offense. The only think that either of them can think about as England, no, _Arthur_ carries his little Alfred up the stairs is that they are sure the other can hear their heart pounding loudly, as if it were outside of their chest. (For the record, neither of them can hear anything but their own heartbeat but they can feel the quick flutters of the other's heart as both of their chests are pressed together.)

When they reach the bedroom, England slowly lowers himself and America onto the bed, not letting his precious cargo leave his grip until he is safely hovering over the middle of the bed. It's no different from any another tuck-in session, America tells himself but he knows somehow that this time is different. He isn't certain but he thinks it has something to do with the fact that his heart is still fluttering and the funny feeling below his tummy. Pulling his legs to his chest and England's coat closer around his body, he waits until England has pulled the covers back before stretching his legs out. Like always, England leans down to press his lips against America's forehead but tonight he kisses America's cheek (and the corner of his lips) as well. They stay like that for some time before England lets out a gasp and pulls back.

"F-feel better Alfred," he stutters, keeping his gaze low in hopes to hide the blush spreading across his face. He is out of the room before America can blink.

'Act the innocent flower but be the serpent underneath it.'

_What did I do wrong?_


	15. Asian

**Asian**

_"What did you do to him?"_

Shoved to the side, the superpower can only stare but the stare festers with a burning animosity. It was his instinct to protect himself, his instinct to take everything that he was denied. He could make decisions by himself. Gloved hands grip tighter at the metal pistol in his hands; he can't help but look proud. He ended it. He saved the world, his people, his enemies even. He has done so much and yet the other is absolutely ungrateful.

"Nothing more than he deserved," he replied. He flashed his weapon in the next moment and then loosened his grip to place it at the table on his side, back with its brother. The two guns make a perfect pair; one bigger than the other but each filled with an all consuming power like the sudden fire and light that has his enemy now kneeling before them. _Begging for mercy;_ against his every instinct.

One hand is left on his gun, protective and proud, proud, proud. He saved everyone. The world. Like one of his comic book's superheroes because he was the fucking _hero_, damn it! Why was everyone suddenly so appalled?

Black eyes caught sight of the guns. "Y-you didn't. You couldn't have."

America was deeply displeased.

"He didn't do anything to deserve—"

**"Excuse me**?" His fingers wrapped around his gun. Instinctively. They were his best and closet friends but they were empty of use now— only one devastating shot in each. "I can think of 1,178 damn good reasons and another 2,350 fucking _perfect_ reasons!" But his ally doesn't hear him. He's turned around and started banging on the strong metal door that holds their latest prisoner captive. _Absolutely disgusting_, he thinks, letting go of his guns and marching right up to China, grabbing his elder by the shoulders. "Don't you care about your own citizens? He burnt you, he killed you! You welcomed him with open arms and he _betrayed_ you!"

China moaned pathetically, shook his head and mutters something in his own language that America doesn't understand. America doesn't comprehend any of it; how the long haired country couldn't be ready to rip Japan's on throat out with his bare hands.

_ "What about Nanking?"_ America might accidentally do the same to his ally out of sheer aggravation, so he drops the Asian country from his grip.

Immediately China's face is covered by his hands as he shakes his head back and forth, sobbing quietly. "He was like a little brother. I never wanted to hurt him as bad as he hurt me."

When America feels like planting a kick in China's face, he knows he has to leave. He does so without a word, leaving China to mutter Japan's name in a mournful chant to himself. On the way out, he sees England, Canada, and France against the opposite wall. He's walked in on the middle of a conversation so he keeps going to avoid it; one phrase catches his ears.

"Fair is foul and foul is fair."

* * *

**History Notes:**

On December 7th, 1941, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I've heard two different numbers for the actual death count - what I've used (2,350) and 2,403, 1,178 people were injured; hence why America uses each person as a reason to justify dropping the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagisaki.

To be honest, I have no idea how accurate China's feelings of remorse and guilt towards Japan are (properly very inaccurate) but I think that this would have been a moment where _Yao_ had nothing to do with his country and was worried solely for _Kiku,_ the little boy he raised.


End file.
